


A Year In the Life (of the Head Watcher on Babylon 5)

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Category: Babylon 5, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, POV First Person, POV Third Person Limited, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21733630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: What it says on the tin.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19
Collections: Highlander Secret Santa (ShortCuts) 2019, Morgyn's Exchange-Fic Collection





	A Year In the Life (of the Head Watcher on Babylon 5)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jtt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jtt/gifts).

> Hopefully being familiar with Babylon 5 will not be necessary to enjoy the story, though it would add more background.
> 
> Thank you to Raine and Lferion for looking things over!
> 
> To Julie - I hope you enjoy the story!

Standing in the back of the room is a fine place to be, easy to slip out of the room if needed, full view of everyone else in the room, unnoticed by the more important people. It would be even better if everyone I'm supposed to be watching were, in fact, in the bloody room. Delenn, yes, in the midst of her ceremony, being recognized as Entil'zha. Sheridan and Ivanova ‒ and it's still disconcerting that she looks like the images of Katherine in the Chronicles, but very definitely isn't. G'kar at the front, where it's easy to watch him as well.

Mollari is absent, as expected, and I have underlings to watch him anyway. Sometimes it's nice being the head of the Babylon 5 Watchers.

But Marcus bloody Cole is not here. Of all the days for him to go missing on me, it HAS to be today, when I can't slip away to find him. I'd say he's the bane of my existence, but that dubious honor belongs to Benjamin, old bastard of an Immortal that he is. Even when he's not anywhere within light years, to the best of my knowledge.

I should pay attention, the ceremony is coming to the part that's actually important for me to watch.

"... As it was done long ago, now we name she who will lead us. So, among the Rangers, let her be known as Entil..." Rathenn trails off, staring past all of us, and his silence draws the attention of others to the hall.

I'm not in a position to see what they see, but it's not long before what has caught everyone else becomes apparent to me as well. Minbari, Warrior Caste. Alyt Neroon, if I remember his name right. With a bloody pike and a scrape on his face. Oh, this does not bode well.

He raises the pike to display the blood on it to Delenn before he drops it at his feet. "There is now blood between us. And there is blood between the Warrior Caste and the humans. I do not think they would die for me. But they would die for you. Entil'zha." He all but spits that last word, the frustration and distaste dripping from his voice.

I don't wait for him to turn, squirming between one of my fellow Rangers and the wall to bolt out the door he came in by. Benjamin is going to kill me. Dear fuck, please let Cole be alive and not dead. I like my job. Both of my jobs. I'd like to KEEP both of them.

I run into Lennier before I find Cole, though he looks like he knows exactly where he is going. Good. Following him makes my search easier. Doesn't effect the outcome, and I don't try to stop the litany of invective that is a background to my thoughts.

Bolting ahead of Lennier, I kneel down to check the pulse. Non-existent. Oh, this is not good. That his pulse returns, hammering against the fingers I have pressed firmly over his wrist, only makes me want to scream. Later, maybe.

"He's alive. Help me get him to Medlab. I can't pick him up by myself."

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I just wasn't being able to find his pulse at first. It's not like I have any kind of real medical training beyond some very basic first aid, anyway.

"I can carry him." Lennier carefully rolls Cole onto his back, and picks him up like he's a child. I'm not sure I wanted the reminder of how much stronger than humans Minbari are today.

Cole hasn't regained consciousness by the time we get him to Medlab, so maybe, just maybe, I'm lucky. Doctor Hobbes takes charge without so much as a glance at me, and Lennier doesn't stay long. I suspect he's going to tell Delenn that Cole is alive, and all that can be done to keep him that way is being done. Or something.

I want to go back to my quarters, and read the dailies from the other Watchers on the station, but I can't. Not yet. Not until I know Cole's status. If he's on his feet by the end of the day, I'm going to have to tell Benjamin.

Loitering outside Medlab means I get to see Delenn go in, with Lennier in her wake. And then see her come out with Cole in addition to Lennier, all of them with baffled expressions.

Perfect.

Dead. That's what I am. Dead. I have been a Watcher a grand total of a decade, a Ranger for a year and a half, and on this station for nine months, and I am going to die. Not in some battle defending people from the Shadows, but because I couldn't keep tabs on one lousy pre‒Immortal human disaster for a handful of hours.

I escape their attention, at least, though I don't make it far before I see Alyt Neroon heading for Medlab. Coming from a different direction than Cole has gone, and thus couldn't have seen his handiwork walking away.

"Alyt Neroon."

I will blame knowing Benjamin for this later. Yes. But better me getting the full attention of a Minbari Warrior than the medical staff.

He looks at me for a long moment. "You are the Ranger who left when I named Delenn Entil'zha."

"Someone had to go looking for Cole." I pause, watching him. "He's not in Medlab. Not in the morgue, either. If you're looking for him."

Neroon narrows his eyes. "I was."

"Good." I tilt my head to indicate the way back toward the main part of the station before switching to Androto. "Walk with me. There's something you need to know, and I'm not talking about it here."

He blinks, watching me another moment before nodding, falling in beside me. At least he's not trying to outpace me.

"Why is Anla'shok Cole not in Medlab?" Neroon follows my lead in choice of language, which means we only have to watch for other Minbari. I don't want anyone to overhear the conversation. "I broke three of his ribs, among other injuries."

"They aren't broken now." I head for the gardens, for all the risk of others being there. It's harder to overhear someone walking and talking when they're surrounded by greenery. "One of them must have punctured a lung, or shattered enough to send a fragment into his heart, or a major blood vessel."

Neroon flicks a glance at me, a frown on his face. "You said he was not in the morgue."

"He's not."

"Yet if he had been injured as you speculate, he would have died before you could have gotten him to Medlab."

"He did." I grimace, curling my hands into fists so I don't reach up to grab my hair. It's too short to pull properly, anyway. "He just didn't stay dead."

"I did not kill him. He still lived when I walked away."

"Well, either you did, or someone else came along and made sure of it, because otherwise Cole would be in Medlab sedated up to his eyeballs." I take a long breath, and let it out slowly. "I wasn't really expecting him to be Immortal."

There is silence a moment, as we walk further into the garden, the plants around us creating a hush.

"What does that mean, Anla'shok?" There's something I can't name in Neroon's voice, and I'm not sure if I want to know or not. Hopefully not knowing what's behind the question won't come back to bite me in the butt later.

"He can't die, no matter how much trouble he gets into, unless someone has the good fortune to get past his guard long enough to cut off his head." I pause, considering some of the weirdness I've read in the Chronicles. "Or blow it off, that works too, so long as his head parts ways with his body."

Another silence. Neroon is good at those. "I see. What does that have to do with me?"

"It needs a violent death to trigger it. I'm not sure if I want to thank you for that or be angry at you for it." I chew on my lip a moment. "I can't watch him all the time without neglecting one or another of my duties. There are some who can help, but they're not going to be enough if he goes back to Minbar, nor on all missions."

"Why should it matter if he goes somewhere alone? He is Anla'shok, as you are. You cannot be certain of another's aid in any mission." There's something in Neroon's voice, again, only this time I'm pretty sure I can name it as amusement. Bloody Minbari.

"I'm a Watcher. Observe, record, avoid interfering when Immortals are fighting each other. Try not to lose track of those who are or will be Immortal, because I rather like living. I already have to explain why I lost track of Cole long enough for him to be killed. I don't intend to have to explain he's now in the hands of some bastard who will either twist him to suit their purposes or take his head off."

"And so you wish to use me to help you keep watch over Anla'shok Cole."

"You killed him, you caused this mess, you get to help with damage control." I stop, turning to meet Neroon's gaze. He's intimidating, yes, but not nearly as much as Benjamin, and I still have to face him today. "How you make it work, I don't care, just so long as you do."

Neroon holds my gaze for a long moment before he makes a little half-bow of agreement. "I will leave you with information to contact the Ingata if you require an additional watcher to assist you, but I will not neglect my duties to satisfy your demand."

"That will suffice."

Now all I have to do is call Benjamin and tell him what's happened today. In as close to person as I can get right now, because I don't want to be waiting for him to read the day's aggregated report.

* * *

When humanity first left Earth, Methos didn't think much of it. There wasn't anywhere to go, even once they got to Mars. At least, not without being discovered on someone else's terms, and no matter what he's doing, he's not going to let someone find him on anyone's terms but his.

He worms his way back into the Watchers when the first telepaths are confirmed, because he needs something between him and them. Between Immortals and telepaths, because he doesn't trust them not to reveal far more than he will ever be comfortable with. It takes a few decades worth of work to find a suitable compromise with the Watchers, and to figure out how to protect Immortals and Watchers alike from telepaths.

Then they find the Centauri, and humanity has a path to explore the entire galaxy. The world made so much larger, and the chances of discovery if he leaves Earth made no greater than they are if he doesn't.

Methos has never shied away from travel before when necessary, and now that he doesn't risk himself, he throws himself out into the galaxy with the same joy he once took in traveling the world. Coming back to make sure he has an in with the Watchers every so often, and otherwise finding all the new places and people he can.

Only when humanity gets itself into a war that no one thinks they can win does he go home. Only then does he risk his Immortality. The Watchers are his, and he doesn't care what insult these Minbari think humanity dealt them, he will not let them destroy what he has built along with all the rest.

The Battle of the Line is one place where his Immortality is useless, and Methos spends it simmering in frustrated anger until the Minbari... surrender. They're winning, and they surrender. He doesn't understand it, and it doesn't help the feeling that followed him all through the Battle of the Line.

So he does what he does best, and finds new Watchers, and new places to go, and settles in to wait until they ferret out the information he wants.

* * *

The com beeping drags him from sleep, and Methos grumbles at it a moment before accepting the incoming transmission. Live, rather than a recorded message, strange for most of his contacts.

"Benjamin." Cáit looks exhausted, her hair sticking up in spikes, and still dressed in what passes for formal dress among the Rangers. Something too urgent to wait for the regular report.

"You look like hell." Methos leaves the com unit running while he gets a bottle of beer from the cold store out on the balcony. "What happened?"

"Delenn's ceremony to become Entil'zha was today. Most of the Anla'shok not on active missions were here. It would have been nice if you'd been here."

Methos snorts, taking a long drink from his beer. "The first three stations were destroyed, and anyone who knows what actually happened to the fourth one isn't talking. I'll pass on coming on board station number five, no matter how important anyone there is."

There's a long moment of silence. "Cole challenged a Minbari to den'shaa, to the best of my knowledge."

Blinking, Methos watches Cáit for a long moment, trying to decide if she's just avoiding saying there's a new Immortal on the station, or if there's something else. "I'm not teaching him."

"Really? Why the fuck am I watching him, then? He's not the kind of public figure Ambassador Delenn or Captain Sheridan are, or Commander Sinclair was. He doesn't look like some other Immortal, like Ivanova. So why?"

"You tell me." Methos takes a short pull on the bottle. "Why did you join the Rangers?"

Cáit glares at him, her jaw clenching visibly. Redirecting her attention is easy enough when she's tired. If he has to tell her later, he might, but right now, this is suitable revenge for waking up when he could have still gotten some sleep before it gets too warm.

"Fuck you, Benjamin." Cáit draws a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back to try to release some of the tension she's carrying. "Strong letter to follow."

Methos grins, tilting his bottle in acknowledgement. "I'm not giving you my current address."

"I don't need you to." Cáit glares at him for a moment longer, before sighing. "I need to go. If you're not going to come teach Cole, I need to make some kind of arrangements for him to learn at least SOMETHING useful to keep his head on his shoulders."

"I'll watch the reports." Methos waits for Cáit to gesture her acknowledgement before shutting off the com unit. Maybe he can get a bit more sleep before the sun comes up and the heat goes up with it.

* * *

Of all the people on the station, there are all of two that I'm aware of that use swords, and I'd be three days dead before you caught me asking Mollari for a favor. Which leaves the Narn who had attached himself to G'kar earlier in the year. Ta'lon, if I remember correctly.

Right now, he's watching me with what I'm pretty certain is patent disbelief. Of course, I'm asking a favor on behalf of someone who doesn't yet know he's getting a new teacher. Maybe that's it.

"Look. I have approximately zero fucks left to give about this, I don't trust the universe's sense of humor, and the only person I know who is both like him and that I'm allowed to talk to about this clusterfuck refuses to come anywhere near Babylon 5."

The disbelief is still not going away. I wonder if the Narn have Immortals, and if anyone who knows would tell me if they did. If that might explain the look I'm getting.

"And this is why you want me to teach this Marcus Cole how to use a ka'tok?" He leans a little away from me, and I scrub one hand through my hair.

"I don't care if you teach him how to USE it. I want you to teach him how to defend against someone with a sword. I refuse to file a report that he got his fool head cut off inside a year, and I REALLY don't want to be forced to ask fucking Mollari for this kind of favor."

That gets me a small smile, if not a lasting one. "Asking the Centauri for anything is foolish enough. I expect asking Ambassador Mollari is worse."

"Hence why I came to you first, and not him." I try a smile of my own, though I suspect it comes out a little more desperate than I'd like. "Look, I don't know how I can repay the favor, but I will owe you one. Only caveat of the return favor is it can't be immediately and obviously suicidal to complete."

"Indicating that you suspect this might be more dangerous than it appears on the surface."

"He's Immortal, and he's human. There are idiots who still think that it's a brilliant idea to attempt to kill every other Immortal they cross paths with, and don't care about collateral damage." I've read several Chronicles of such, and the only good thing about them is the worst and oldest of them are mostly dead. To the best of our knowledge.

"I see." Ta'lon is silent for a long moment. "I will agree to your request, Ranger. And I will collect on that favor another day."

"Of course. Thank you." I probably should worry about owing an open‒ended favor to someone neither a Watcher nor a Ranger, but I was being far too honest when I said I am out of fucks to give. "I'll tell Cole to expect you, at your convenience, to sort details of lessons."

Ta'lon nods. "Of course."

There's a moment of silence before I turn away. I am not entirely looking forward to talking to Cole about this.

* * *

The chapel is hushed when I step inside, a quiet space that feels distant from the rest of the station. All but empty between prayer times as it is now. Only Theo, waiting as always for our monthly chat. One that should have been almost two weeks ago, but the chaos of Cole's first death and the aftermath have delayed it.

I all but drop down onto the floor, sitting beside the bench and tilting my head back onto it so I can stare at the ceiling. Theo settles in a bit down the bench, watching me and waiting.

"Forgive me, father, for I am going to ring a peal over an Immortal's head." Which one, I'm not sure, though both Cole and Benjamin are in the running. Stubborn bastards, the both of them.

"That's not how it usually goes." Theo doesn't laugh, but I can hear the amusement in his voice nonetheless. There's even a small smile on his face when I flick my glance in his direction.

I snort anyway. "Behold the field in which I grow my fucks, and observe! It is barren." Between the two of them, if I hadn't long since cut my hair short, I would have pulled it all out.

"I do believe it has long since turned to desert and salt‒pan." Theo meets my gaze with a dry look that gives way readily to sympathy.

"You're probably one of the few people who has realized that." I turn my attention back to the ceiling. Bare and basic, like most ceilings in the station. Soothing, in its own way.

"I have been a monk longer than you've been alive, and a Watcher for nearly as long." Theo rests a gentle hand on my shoulder despite the tartness in his voice. "I would be concerned if I couldn't."

The silence returns, and I try to let it settle peace into me, at least for a little while. There's chaos enough, organized as it is, outside the chapel when I leave. I can take the time to just breathe here.

"I recruited a Minbari." I don't dare look over to see Theo's expression as I spin out the last month's worth of Watcherly confessions. He should know most of it from the reports, if he's looking, but it's good to say it anyway. "A Warrior Caste Minbari. To help keep track of Cole." I pause, and let out a soft huff. "And to keep Cole's head on until we can direct him to an Immortal to teach him properly."

If Cole even lets any of us do that. He hadn't exactly taken the whole now‒you're‒Immortal talk too well in the first place.

"An unusual choice, but I don't see anything wrong in it." Theo does in fact sound entirely at ease with the idea. Whether that's because he has been keeping up and already has had time to come to terms with it, or because he's always looking to know more and keeps an open mind to do so, I don't know.

"And a Narn to teach him how to defend against a sword." In so much as Ta'lon has been able to do so around his schedule, Cole's missions, and Cole's stubborn nature, anyway.

"Ta'lon?" Definitely been reading up.

"Yes."

"Effective, I will hope."

Another moment of silence soaks in like rain.

"I contacted Benjamin. He refuses to teach Cole." It really shouldn't have been a surprise then, and it shouldn't feel like a betrayal now. I know he's a stubborn bastard of an old Immortal. "When I asked him why, he asked me why I joined the Rangers."

Thinking back on it, that could have been to distract me, or it could have been to irritate me. It couldn't have been genuine curiosity, not with the timing.

"I see." Theo pauses, and I look over at him, watching him looking up at the altar. Thinking, but over what, I don't know. "You weren't the first choice to establish a presence in that organization."

I knew that when I ignored the various debating going on in person and over coms, and took transport to Minbar. I care about as much now as I did then. "Salt‒pan."

Theo looks down a moment, his expression more gentle than I'm expecting. "You don't have to tell me."

"No. I don't." I don't think Theo was trying to encourage me to tell him anyway, but saying that I'm not required to tell him ‒ or anyone, really ‒ is freeing anyway. "Entil'zha Sinclair knew why."

Sinclair had known the Rangers would never be my first loyalty, no matter how important the work, or how seriously I took it. Had listened while I told him about the Watchers, and had been unconcerned. I still can't figure out why.

"He took that secret with him to... well, to wherever he vanished to."

Sometimes I wonder if he knew he was going to vanish off to somewhere my secrets won't matter even as I was telling him. I'll never actually know, and some days I'm even okay with that uncertainty.

"Have you told Delenn?"

I am surprised by the visceral reaction that evokes, flinching away from Theo before I can stop the movement. "When the seas run dry, and the sun turns to ash."

Why does it bother me so much? Delenn is Entil'zha, is Sinclair's chosen successor. Is the heart of the Rangers now, and one of the two centers of gravity for my life. And yet this. This is beyond what I could trust her with.

"That might be a bit excessive." Theo is watching me with more calm than I feel right now.

"Maybe." I wonder if maybe all my trust for that particular piece of my life was used up in telling Sinclair about it. "I am a Ranger. We walk in the dark places no other will enter. We stand on the bridge, and no one may pass. We live for the One. We die for the One." I draw a breath, letting the words settle into my bones as they had when I first spoke them. "That doesn't mean she gets to know all of me."

Theo doesn't respond, and after a moment, I break the silence myself. "Benjamin suspect why, I think. He doesn't have confirmation, because fuck no, I am not giving him that kind of power over me. But he suspects."

Maybe that's why I don't want to tell Delenn, either. But I don't know if that makes sense or not.

"Are you going to give him confirmation of his suspicions?" Theo sounds skeptical, and I shrug.

"Not in so many words. I don't know if the reports on how things go will make him think it's confirmation, or if he'll just gather new suspicions about my motives."

"Of course." Theo is quiet again, and this time the quiet has a different feel. A conversation coming to a close. "Do you have anything further to report, or shall I assume anything further is not to be included in a chronicle?"

"Only this." I reach into a hidden pocket, pulling out the data crystal I've had on me for longer than I've been Ranger or Watcher. "That is for Benjamin, when I'm dead."

Theo looks askance at me, and I shrug.

"I don't know when that will be, but I expect you'll either outlive me, or you'll pass it on to your successor along with the instructions on delivery."

"I will." Theo pockets the data crystal, and leaves me to the silence in the chapel while he returns to his monks and his other work.

* * *

Opening the door of my quarters to see Benjamin is a surprise that I did not need after getting back from trying not to be turned into a corpse floating home. "I thought you wouldn't come here."

"I had a strange message from a friend." Benjamin shrugs, not getting up from where he's sprawled on the couch separating the corner kitchen and the rest of the room. "He let me in when I said you'd offered me the use of your couch."

"I did no such thing." Most of my uniform goes into the basket next to my bed so I can launder it later, stinking of sweat and smoke as it does. If Benjamin has a problem with it, he can... do something anatomically improbable, I'm too tired to think of suitable consequences right now.

I can't pass out yet, but flopping face down on my bed seems fantastic, and hurts less than attempting to sit anywhere.

"I hear your battle went well."

I don't know if Benjamin will be able to hear me, but I don't give enough fucks to lift my head out of the pillow. "Only because Sheridan's crazy seat‒of‒the‒pants plan to tell the Vorlons and Shadows alike to fuck right off actually worked." If he'd planned that out ahead of time beyond getting both sides in one place at the same time, I don't know, and I don't particularly care. It worked, that's what was important.

There's a soft huff from Benjamin, maybe amusement. "They should have left millennia ago."

I wonder how different my life would have been if they had. How different the galaxy would be. "The rest of us would probably have appreciated that."

"I would have appreciated that." There's a sour note in Benjamin's voice, and I debate for a moment looking at him, before deciding that no, that's still too much like work.

"Humanity didn't get off Earth until, what, three hundred years ago? And it's been only a couple of generations, tops, since we made first contact with anyone."

"First contact happened before mortals left Earth on their own." That's definitely irritation, that sour note.

"Fuck a duck."

"Better that than dealing with a Vorlon."

Okay, I need to see his face. Fucking bastard of an Immortal.

Turning my head makes my neck twinge, and the rest of my back lets off a brief chorus of complaint until I resettle, watching Benjamin. There's something not quite a scowl on his face.

"You're telling me you met a Vorlon before the Space Age?"

"Long before." Benjamin's smile is nothing kind or gentle, and it makes my blood run cold for a moment. "Neither of us much liked the encounter."

"I don't think I want to know." No. I KNOW I don't want to know. Benjamin doesn't pretend he's been a paragon of virtue all his life, and I'm sure there are skeletons in his closet I don't want to know about. I think I can safely add this to them.

"Then I don't need to tell you." There's a slyness in Benjamin's expression, but I don't take up the bait.

"Good."

There's a long moment of blessed silence.

"How are things going with keeping Cole from losing his head?"

I summon up enough energy to flip Benjamin the bird. "Bite a Minbari bone crest."

That gets a laugh out of him, and a grin. "That bad?"

"You HAVE read my reports." I know he has. He's annotated them with commentary. "He's a fucking trouble magnet when he's not pining over Commander Ivanova." I pause. "You should introduce him to Katherine."

"No." Benjamin shakes his head, a contemplative expression on his face that I don't trust one bit. "I'll send a teacher or two for him once I leave Babylon 5."

"Promise?" It would be nice not to be scrambling to do what I can for Cole's education.

"You might regret it."

I snort, turning my head to face the other direction, hearing the quiet crack of joints. "Oh, I have plenty of regrets, Benjamin. Having someone teaching the human disaster how to Immortal is not going to be one of them."

* * *

"Hey, Cáit?"

I look up to see Garibaldi with a Minbari in Warrior Caste armor and a human who looks little more than a kid trailing behind him, just past the table I'd sat down at in the Zocolo. He looks a bit haunted, or a bit hunted. Either way, I'm not inclined to be sympathetic to whatever's bothering him ‒ I'm fairly certain he's the friend that let Benjamin into my quarters to surprise me after the Shadow War.

"Yeah, sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I think these guys are looking for you."

If Alyt Neroon were sending me a message about Cole, I'm fairly certain he'd have sent the courier directly to me, and not in the company of a human. Never mind a human so young.

The human snorts, shifting the bag on his shoulder. "Ben said to find a Mr. Garibaldi, and you'd explain things."

Garibaldi rolls his eyes, and gives the probably‒an‒Immortal human a grin that's nothing but teeth and threat. "Well, I'm kinda busy with my own little business, if you don't mind. You want to talk about Marcus Cole and his little miraculous recovery thing, talk to Cáit."

With that, he stalks off, leaving me to handle the two he's left at my table. I think I want to punch him right now, but getting in trouble with station security is a bad idea.

"Sorry about Garibaldi, apparently he's become more of a grade‒A asshole since he got kidnapped." I wave at the empty seats at the table, since it's clear they're not going to sit without the invitation. "You said Benjamin sent you?"

The Minbari speaks before the human can get his mouth open, voice as level and measured as any I've heard. "Benjamin told me there was a newcomer to be taught, and that he would send a companion to assist me, as the newcomer isn't Minbari."

"It would have been nice if he'd have shared that with both of us." The human reaches across the table, offering his hand to shake. "Richie Ryan. Current ID says something else, but you won't find it in my chronicle."

"Good to know." I shake his hand briefly before picking up my fork where I'd set it down when Garibaldi interrupted. "Has Benjamin ever shared all the information he has on anything?"

That got amusement from the Minbari, and a familiar exasperation from Ryan.

"If I hadn't known him Before, I'd say he picked that up from the Minbari. Or they picked it up from him."

"Or we both developed the habit on our own." The Minbari lets out a short chuckle. "Certainly it is a habit I've known my own species to cultivate for some millennia."

Ryan shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "The convergent evolution thing as applied to cultures and people? Yeah, I can see that."

"So, anyway. Benjamin sent you, I assume to teach Cole how to Immortal?"

"That is the idea, I believe." The Minbari pauses, waiting for me to finish the bite I'd taken after my question. "If you could arrange quarters so that we may do so, that would be appreciated."

"I can do that. Let me finish lunch, and then we'll go talk to Station Resources, and find you somewhere. If nothing's available, I can always see if Brother Theo has a free bunk, or I have an apparently serviceable couch."

* * *

"I thought Marcus was supposed to be coming with me to Mars." Franklin is waiting at customs where the first ship that's on the roundabout route to Mars is docked and loading. "He didn't say anything to the Captain about not being able to make it."

"He has 'two babysitters and a broadcast signal for anyone who thinks cutting off heads is a good hobby'. His words. Though I think I want to hit him with a brick for failing to tell anyone ELSE this." I hitch my small bag higher on my shoulder. "It's too late to change plans now, so. Maybe we could get this trip going?"

"After you." Franklin waves me ahead of him, and it doesn't take too long to get ourselves situated in the cargo hold, strapped in next to an airlock so we're not free-floating with the cargo. "Is there a reason Marcus asked you in particular?"

"Oh, just a little bit of payback for dropping information on him he didn't like." I press myself back into the seat a little, waiting patiently for the ship to get moving. "I'm not particularly happy to be going to Mars, myself, but he said you needed a bodyguard, so here I am."

"What's wrong with going to Mars?" Franklin is adjusting the straps on his seat to hold him a little more snugly.

"Bad memories, and nothing I want to share." It will be the closest I've been to Earth since a few months after the Battle of the Line.

"Fair enough."

Silence falls afterward, and holds until we have to switch ships. I don't think we exchanged more than a handful of words until we got to our last ship, and meeting our contact. That's a little more eventful than I like to think about, though things after go better, and the trip home is as quiet as the trip out.

* * *

"How was your trip to Mars?"

I don't bother to stop the spar I'm in the middle of with a Minbari who had been waiting for me when I returned with Franklin. Rastenn had been sent by Alyt Neroon to lend assistance with keeping Cole from sneaking off without a babysitter. Something his teachers aren't always good at.

"There's a fascist fuckwit in charge on Earth, our contact was compromised, some idjits fucked up, and Franklin got involved with the leader of Mars Resistance. You owe me at least two drinks for that last alone."

"Sorry about that, I couldn't think of anyone else to ask on such short notice." Cole is leaning against the wall of the gym, and I take a second to figure out if I can hit him in the course of this spar without telegraphing my intent too soon.

"Of course you could. You know, come to think, I had two and a half weeks of blessed silence each way, so you can only owe me drinks for having to hear Franklin and Number One having a pleasant night of it."

That at least makes his grin fade a little, though it doesn't go away. "Well, I'm glad you and Steven got along so well."

"I'm sure you are." I dodge a blow from Rastenn, drawing the spar closer to Cole.

In the end, I don't catch him, but at least he leaves me in relative peace for a while. It won't last ‒ it never does ‒ but it's at least a little bit of quiet.

* * *

I could have chosen to stay on the station and sent Rastenn, or one of the other Watchers, on this potential suicide mission. Except.

I am a Ranger. I walk in the dark places no one will enter. I stand on the bridge, and no one may pass.

I am a Watcher. I observe, and I record, that history does not forget even those who survive it.

I cannot walk away.

* * *

"Are you certain you want to be here, doing this?"

We're in the waiting part of this mission, waiting to jump into Proxima on the command of Sheridan, to engage with Earth Force. I've been having second and third thoughts, though I don't actually regret choosing to come.

"If I did not wish to be here, I would not be here." Cole's Minbari teacher is behind me, and I look over my shoulder at him. He's not even looking up from his console.

"No bad memories?" Cole turns the command chair enough to join our conversation, though his glance flicks to where Ryan is working at familiarizing himself with the weapons controls.

"I did not fight in the war against your people the first time." A small smile quirks the Minbari's lips. "I had made it very difficult to find me, at the time."

Ryan lets out a bark of laughter. "You were hiding under half a ton of rock, according to Ben."

The Minbari tilts his head. "Rather more than that ‒ an entire mountain. We make sure of our solitude when we do not wish to involve ourselves in the current affairs of the mortal universe."

I blink, not seeing the controls in front of me a moment. "That. Is a lot of rock." I'm not sure what else to say, other than to make rude comparisons to Immortals on Earth who like to pretend the rest of the galaxy doesn't exist.

"Well." Cole sounds entirely too cheerful. "I'm afraid we don't have nearly that much rock to hide under this time."

"There is a great deal of rock to hide under, if I desired to do so." The sound of shifting fabric suggests a shrug. "Though I would prefer it to be a tomb for those who have caused harm to those they should protect, rather than a citadel for our own kind."

There isn't really anything to say in response to that, and the conversation dies away until we get word Sheridan has arrived, and Cole and Ryan take a shuttle over to his ship.

Now comes the hard part of this mission.

* * *

After his jaunt to Babylon 5, and sending on some friends to the same, Methos had decided that a visit to Earth wasn't entirely uncalled for. Not an easy trip, and getting back out will be harder than getting in. Even with the Watchers network of smugglers that are the only way they get reports from some of their off-world agents.

It's that network that tells him Sheridan is incoming with a mixed fleet, led by renegade Earth Force destroyers and Sheridan's White Stars. Propaganda from the government says its a ragtag alien‒led nothing that can't stand up to good, loyal Earth Force ships.

Methos hopes only that those he gives the most fucks about are still on Babylon 5. Are where their risks are minimal. Not in the fleet bearing down on Earth. Not risking their necks and their secrets.

After the fighting is over, he waits. First, there's a brief note from Richie. Another from Adrenn. Neither mentions Cáit, though both talk about an exploded White Star and the near‒death of Ivanova.

A knock on his door ‒ old‒fashioned wooden one with no electronics to open it ‒ two weeks after Clark's suicide, is not entirely unexpected.

"I was wrong." Cáit doesn't even say hello, pushing past him into the small entryway, and taking an inventory of the rooms visible through open doorways. Making a beeline for a couch as soon as she spots one.

Methos follows, letting his lips curl into a grin as Cáit faceplants into one of the silly throw pillows he's collected just to annoy his friends. "Oh?"

"I didn't know there were Minbari Immortals." It's not exactly an explanation, but he's taught his Watchers too well how to play games that go around and around what needs said when it's not urgent.

"Every race I've encountered has them. Some of them are more reclusive than I am." He shrugs, going past her to the mini-fridge to pull out a bottle of lager. "Beer?"

"No." Cáit leans up on her elbows, watching him. "It's not hard to be more reclusive than you are, Benjamin."

"This is the first time I've been on Earth since I recruited you." He pulls a bottle of juice to offer it instead, and she looks at it a long moment before moving so she's lounging on the couch.

"Fitting, since I haven't been here since then, either." Cáit looks down at the bottle of juice, not drinking any. "I don't think I'm going to stay, but I can at least say I have been back." Bad memories and all, goes unsaid. "Anyway. Minbari Immortal who still hasn't told me his name, and the OTHER one..."

"I thought he'd get along with Cole." Methos thought Richie would be glad to get away from his own ghosts on Earth for a while. The note he'd gotten from the young Immortal certainly had suggested he was right.

"Like a house on fire. Screaming, running, and property damage." Cáit twists the lid off the juice, taking a long sip. "The only deaths so far are those who refused to surrender while we were coming here."

Methos nods. "I hear there was a near‒miss as well."

"Commander Ivanova, yes." Cáit leans her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "There was a lot of yelling, after."

"You were there?" Maybe the lack of mention in the notes and the delay in arrival hadn't been because she'd been sane and stayed on Babylon 5.

"Where else would I be?" Cáit looks at him for a long moment. "Earth, for all I would rather be anywhere else, is still home. I am a Watcher, and I am a Ranger. I couldn't be anywhere else."

"You could have stayed on Babylon 5."

"And send someone else for Earth Force to attempt to kill? In my place? No, I really couldn't have." Cáit sighs, closing her eyes. "At least the fleet turned them to shrapnel. Dangerous enough as that, but more avoidable danger for most."

There's silence for a long moment, and Methos takes another long sip of his beer. "I take it that was what nearly killed Ivanova?"

"If she hadn't been shoved out of the way, it probably would have."

"Cole?"

"Ryan. Cole was apparently too far away to get to her in time. Only to shout a warning."

"Do the crew know he didn't stay dead?" There's having an organization knowing about Immortals, and then there's the risk of the public finding out.

Cáit doesn't answer for a long moment, one hand clenched tight around the glass of the bottle, the other fisted in the coat of her Ranger uniform. Trying to keep her temper in check, he thinks.

"Did the crew survive?"

Cáit inhales, long and slow. "The ship blew up. I watched. Your Minbari friend and I were on the ship that picked up the shuttle that got out before the destruction." Another breath, careful and deliberate. "Cole, Ryan, and Ivanova were the only ones who made it aboard that shuttle."

Methos can't reply to that, and he doesn't try. There aren't any unknown factors in this, not now. Ivanova will keep the secret as much as she has kept others, he's had her watched long enough to be certain of that. And if she doesn't, he can always try to talk Katherine into taking her place long enough to make Ivanova fade from history.

"I'm not recruiting Ivanova, and you know full well why I won't." Cáit is watching him, her expression warier than he expects when he looks up. "And you're not killing her for knowing this."

"And why not?" He's killed to keep the secret of Immortality before, and he knows Cáit is aware of that. She's not aware he doesn't intend to kill Ivanova, and he's not going to make her aware of that, not yet.

"Cole will do something foolish to attempt to save her, or he'll come for your head if he can't. After he goes through whoever else is involved. He's attached to her, fool that he is. Deeply."

That would be annoying, even if it's unlikely Cole would succeed. Not a factor in why he won't kill Ivanova, but something to think of, nonetheless.

"I'll leave her be, for now." So long as she doesn't make it necessary to kill her. And he'll deal with Cole if he has to.

Cáit sighs, but nods, and silence descends.

* * *

It's been a year since Cole died. A year that has been one of the most frustrating in my career so far. Not enough for me to consider walking away from my current assignment. Babylon 5 is home, and the only other Watcher with enough seniority to take charge has enough on his hands. I'll stay. Watch Cole and Ryan and their Minbari friend ‒ Adrenn, Benjamin told me ‒ while working as both Ranger and Watcher. Work with Rastenn and Alyt Neroon through him. Avoid the command staff as much as possible.

And I'll see what the next year brings.

**Author's Note:**

> Relevant background to this fic:
> 
> [Five Times Methos Met Parker](https://archiveofourown.org/works/145391) is, in my head, part of the backstory of this, important to both Methos and Cáit, even if none of that necessarily showed up in the story.


End file.
